


before the storm

by antikytheras



Series: i made poor life choices and now i have to write genyatta everyday [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Slow Burn, if you consider 2k words slow burn i guess, theoretically canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 13:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13525506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antikytheras/pseuds/antikytheras
Summary: Five times Genji and Zenyatta fight for each other, and one time they don't have to.





	before the storm

**Author's Note:**

> prompt was "a storm" and i'm not sure how it came to this but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 

\---

one.

\---

 

Zenyatta asks, at first.

‘I cannot stay, Mondatta.’

‘Yes you can,’ Mondatta insists, attention still focused on the reports scattered all over the desk in front of him. He doesn’t look up when he explains, patiently, the way one would to an insolent child, ‘Much danger lies beyond these walls. I would not send one of our most beloved monks on a suicide mission. Think of the children, brother. They will surely miss you.’

Genji watches the spectacle unfold from his perch in the rafters, wishing he had the foresight to bring some popcorn. Zenyatta never turns his face to him, but Genji has a pretty good feeling that his teacher knows exactly where he is.

‘The children? Mondatta, it seems to me that even they have learned to understand transience when you have not. The world is changing. We cannot wait for people to come to our temple.’

Mondatta finally looks up. Genji’s not sure how an omnic with an immovable faceplate manages to look so _cross_. ‘Do we not go out and give them our speeches? Our audiobooks, our broadcasts— those are our responses to the “changes” you speak of.’

‘Mondatta. You speak of nonsense. I know the fears that plague you.’

‘Then don’t go,’ he says simply, staring the most problematic member of their temple straight in the eye.

Zenyatta returns his dignity. ‘I cannot. Not when our brothers and sisters are being slain in the hundreds, every single day. Not when I must sense every room before I enter it, not when I look in the rafters and expect to see an assassin instead of my most mischievous student.’

Mondatta whips around so quickly that he spills an inkpot. It lands sideways with an audible clunk. Ink seeps through the reports, rendering them all illegible. Zenyatta does not press his advantage, does not hold his unquestionable victory over his brother’s head.

‘Now do you understand, Mondatta?’

When Mondatta looks up, all Genji sees is his master’s deadly grace.

 

\---

two.

\---

 

Their enemies were getting cut down faster than Zenyatta could see.

‘Genji—’ he tries to call out, but his brightest student is just out of reach, too far gone for his master to pull him ashore.

‘Genji—’ he tries again, and this time a severed head rolls to his feet. He looks away (but only after making sure it’s not his student, that’s _not Genji, oh thank the Iris_ —) and tries to look for his pupil within the whirlwind roaring around them, the whirlwind slashing their screaming assailants to bloody ribbons while the others (foolish, mortal men) make the mistake of rushing Zenyatta.

Zenyatta can only watch, filled with immeasurable sadness, as his angry stubborn (scared) companion drives the end of his sword into one and _pulls_ upward.

At the end of the battle, many minutes after, Zenyatta remains unharmed, each and every module of his body unclogged and pristine.

Genji flicks the blood off his sword, treads over the gore and remains splattered over the ground. Every step he takes is a careless one, and soon his feet bear the red weight of his sins.

He comes to a stop before his master and looks up with a calm, steady gaze.

The events of King’s Row had broken them all.

Silent, Zenyatta plucks an orb out of the air and offers up his benediction.

 

\---

three.

\---

 

Without preamble, Zenyatta observes, ‘Overwatch has issued a recall.’

Genji slices a training dummy to shreds. ‘I noticed.’

The fortress of his youth has changed immensely over the years. Yet Hanamura’s blossoms have stayed largely the same, as have the boarded-up training rooms of his childhood. He remembers the lessons he’d sat through with his brother, the weeks of theory and basic practice before he’d _finally_ been allowed to pick up a wooden pole, then a wooden sword, and then a metal sword, and then another metal sword, and then, finally, his very own _wakizashi_ , and _then_ his one-of-a-kind Dragonblade _ōdachi_.

It had been mildly therapeutic to sneak in. Almost like he could relive the glory days, back when their sibling rivalry was never a threat to anyone’s life, back when they both wanted to make their parents proud in their own (emotionally constipated) ways, back when Genji’s most pressing concern was whether or not he could get laid for the fifth night in a row.

Never one to push, Zenyatta only waits for Genji to finish his “training”. But Genji takes his time, working his cybernetic body to its absolute limit. Before he can cross that invisible boundary and overexert himself, a strange, welcome warmth gently tugs him back, suffuses the very core of his being.

Finally, unwillingly, he turns to face his ever-patient master.

‘Your people need you,’ Zenyatta says gently.

‘ _You_ need me.’

‘No,’ Zenyatta replies, ‘I do not.’

The truth takes his heart and tears it to shreds, and he _hates_ that Zenyatta watches over him while he picks up the pieces and fixes it all over again.

 

\---

four.

\---

 

‘Prove it,’ Genji says suddenly, breaking a two-week long frosty silence between them.

‘Hm?’ Zenyatta makes a calm, contemplative sound, but Genji knows that he’s surprised and that this is how he stalls for time.

Even within the bustle of Rikimaru’s lunchtime crowd, Genji still manages to draw everyone’s attention when he gets up from the stool by the ramen bar, where they (or, well, technically _he_ , since Zenyatta had always watched him do the eating) had basically gone through the entire menu in the span of a week, and points an accusatory finger at his master.

Zenyatta is most definitely surprised at this point, but his voice is still even when he questions, ‘What are you—’

‘Prove that you don’t need me. I challenge you to a fight, Master.’

The lunchtime crowd is stunned into silence. Then, an excited voice cheers. Her table of friends picks up the cry, which spreads the chant like an epidemic until the whole shop is yelling for them to show off their “mad omnic skills”.

Zenyatta appears to contemplate the idea for a moment. The crowd falls into a tense, excited silence. It feels like everyone, even Genji, is waiting with bated breath when he finally says, ‘As you wish.’

And the crowd goes _wild_.

So that’s how they find themselves on the road outside Rikimaru, standing five feet apart while the patrons open the windows in anticipation of the show to come. Genji can already hear a betting pool forming, and he can’t help but grin.

It’s been too long since they last sparred.

Genji makes the first move, springing forward and unsheathing his _wakizashi_ in a fluid motion. Zenyatta immediately redirects the orbs he’d sent careening in a deadly-precise volley aimed at Genji’s head, twisting his body when he extends a hand to gently slice through thin air. The orbs follow wherever his hand leads, until they’re orbiting Genji so quickly they blur into a single golden line.

Genji charges forward and deflects all five of the orbiting orbs toward Zenyatta, who flinches. Concentration broken, the orbs scatter everywhere at his feet.

He follows up by throwing a few _shuriken_ , but Zenyatta’s long recovered by now. He even makes a deliberate show of catching every blade by sinking them deep into an orb each.

His master flicks an orb of discord at Genji, and it hits him like a slash to the gut.

‘I know the doubts that plague you,’ he says, low and dark, and the sound pulls _something else_ out of the pit of Genji’s turbulent emotions.

It’s purely reactionary when he deflects another volley of orbs. He hears a Rikimaru patron gasp when the deflected orb flies (clear) over his head.

Zenyatta catches one of the _shuriken_ -sunken orbs out of the air and, in a studied motion that Genji _knows_ is his own, he flicks it toward Genji’s firing arm.

It hits sharp-side first and severs the circuit powering the reloading mechanism. It’ll take a few seconds before his system realises it should power his arm through the secondary circuit.

That’s all the time Zenyatta needs to appear right in front of his face, one arm outstretched in a martial arts position, linked to the two blade-hybrid orbs poised before his neck.

‘The world could benefit greatly from your power, Genji,’ he murmurs, softly. ‘Why must you fight for me? I do not desire war, nor violence, so it will not follow me wherever I go. I know you love the thrill of battle. You could be so great reborn once more under Overwatch’s mantle.’

Genji smiles, forgetting, for a moment, that Zenyatta cannot see past his visor—

‘You do not need me, master, but I need you.’

—and slices the forgotten _wakizashi_ lightly across his master’s torso, tracing the very same arc that his brother had inflicted upon him once, a lifetime ago.

 

\---

five.

\---

 

Overwatch welcomes them both with open arms.

Of course, Lena is the one who states the obvious. ‘You know, with the whole monk thing and all, I didn’t really think Zenyatta would join our glorified little fight club.’

Morrison shoots her a pointed glare. It’s a lot less prickly under his visor, though the face mask thing really does add a lot to his new “don’t talk to me” vibes.

If Zenyatta’s oversized _mala_ weren’t sitting on his shoulders, it would be rotating behind him in a contemplative circle. ‘In a world which tends toward entropy, it can be said that peace requires action. My brother— Mondatta, that is— had always believed in the power of speech.’

Genji risks a quick glance at Lena to find her expression taking on an unpleasantly frozen tinge at the mention of Mondatta’s name.

Zenyatta inclines his head. ‘However, you, Miss Oxton, have shown me the necessity— our dire need, if you will— of action. Perhaps if I had been there, things would have turned out differently. Perhaps if Genji had been there, the Talon operative would have found herself with her own bullet in her forehead. But Genji was not there, but you were, and you’d done your best. For risking your life,’ and Zenyatta nods at the chronal accelerator strapped to Lena’s chest, ‘and your time in saving my brother that day, I express my deepest gratitude on behalf of the Shambali. Thank you, Tracer.’

Lena’s eyes shine with unshed tears when she chokes out, ‘Thanks, love.’

‘I hope this brings you peace. My brother would have wanted that, I’m sure.’

Later, when they formally move into the quarters that Overwatch had provided for the both of them, Genji finds himself knocking on his teacher’s door.

‘It’s not locked.’

When he pushes the door open, he finds Zenyatta floating beside a meditation cushion, neatly prepared for Genji with just the right amount of fluffed up support.

Zenyatta looks up from his own deep meditation, the blue lights on his forehead dimming and brightening in a steady cycle that mimics human breathing. ‘Would you care to join me?’

Genji stores his original intention away, just so he can broach the subject after their daily meditation together.

‘Of course.’

The session passes by in the blink of an eye, and by the end of it, having had the chance to turn over each and every thought in his head like a stone, without once ever passing judgement on the doubts plaguing his mind, Genji is surer of his convictions than he’s ever been.

Immediately after he grounds himself in the present, he opens his eyes and turns to his teacher. He asks, plain and simple, ‘Will you help me find my brother?’

Zenyatta hums, unsurprised. ‘It will not be easy.’

‘He is a skilled warrior, though I heard he’s taken up archery since my death. I’m sure he will be a valuable addition to the team, especially against that Talon sniper.’

‘Our friends may not be so quick to accept him, especially since some of them were most intimately acquainted with your, how to put this— _displeasure_ toward him in the early stages of your recovery.’

Genji knows his teacher is testing (or teasing) him. ‘Then I will fight for his right to battle alongside us.’

Zenyatta makes a satisfied noise. ‘As will I.’

 

\---

and then—

\---

 

After many painful months, the Shimada brothers make a passable attempt at reconciliation.

In the aftermath, Jesse is the first to sigh. ‘Well, least he ain’t using my doors for target practice anymore.’

Lena laughs, loud and cheerful. ‘Hey, you didn’t have to install saloon doors!’

Jesse huffs. ‘Back where I’m from, they call this dedication.’

Genji remains frozen on the ground, gripping his Wii controller like it’s his _wakizashi_.

Jesse tosses his aside in favour of his beat-up cowboy hat. ‘I guess I’ll make a move first. Gotta check on my Hanny-Bunny. And, well, maybe my door.’

‘He would kill you if he could hear you now,’ Genji mumbles emotionlessly, still shell-shocked by their heated battle.

Jesse laughs. ‘No offense, but I doubt he could stand having any of ya as his shooting partner. He’s a real cactus. A _pain in the ass_ , if you would.’

‘I did not need to think of my brother in that context.’

‘Sweet dreams, sweetheart!’ Jesse calls over his shoulder as he saunters out.

Lena drops her controller on a cushion and stealthily blinks after him, producing a camera from her chronal accelerator as if she were a cat-shaped alien with a magic pocket.

Zenyatta gently pulls the controller from Genji’s hands and moves to shut off the Wii. ‘I don’t suppose I need to remind you about choosing your battles?’

Finally, Genji unfreezes. ‘It’s no fair! How come he gets a Bullet Bill when he’s in fourth place? All I ever get is green Shells.’

‘Some say Mario Kart is a reflection of society.’ Somehow, Zenyatta manages to say it with a straight face. Probably because he doesn’t have traitorous moving parts to betray him. ‘Personally, I’m more curious to know why Mario Kart is the only time the both of you can sit in the same room without arguing.’

‘Because! He sucks and yet he still believes that he’s,’ Genji drops his voice an octave in what Zenyatta assumes is a poor imitation of his brother’s voice, ‘ _never second best_.’

Without thinking, Zenyatta idly replies, ‘You’ll always be my favourite student, Genji.’

Then, there’s silence.

Genji’s staring at Zenyatta with his jaw dropped. He looks ridiculous, Zenyatta thinks, but there’s definitely some fondness in that thought. Oh dear. Oh _dear_.

‘Master, I—’

Zenyatta almost interrupts, but something in Genji’s expression gives him pause.

He looks like he’s struggling against his inner demons. It’s a battle Zenyatta has helped him through on several occasions, but this— he doesn’t think he can do anything but float helplessly in silence.

Then, very quietly, Genji mumbles, ‘I meant what I said. I still do. I need you, Master, even if you don’t need me.’

Zenyatta stills. ‘All things are transient, Genji, and your feelings—’

‘—should be acted upon, because sure they may be momentary but life is nothing but a series of moments. You told me this, Master. Does it not apply to you?’

Genji cocks his head like a curious sparrow, so light and free from judgement or expectation that Zenyatta almost forgets the heavy truth behind his words.

‘I am a monk, Genji, I—’

‘You told me,’ Genji starts, but falters when he realises he cut his teacher off. Only when Zenyatta gives him the go-ahead does he continue, ‘When I could not accept my new self, you told me that even though I was not-a-man, I was still a man. In the same way, you are here with me in Ovewatch, so though you are not-a-monk, are you not still a monk?’

Zenyatta stalls while his mind works furiously, calculating possibilities and conducting thought experiments at a mile a minute. ‘I was unaware you actually listened to my teachings.’

‘You’re stalling,’ Genji says bluntly.

‘I am,’ Zenyatta agrees, satisfied with the conclusions he’s reached. ‘I care very much about your well-being, and I would never wish to harm you with a careless word. I was never programmed to experience or express “love” in the way you humans do, but if I could love I would want to love you.’

Zenyatta can practically feel Genji _beaming._ He drifts to Genji’s side and presses their metal foreheads together, in part to cover up his embarrassment and in part because he’s always had a strange urge to do it.

Genji laughs, pops off his faceplate and leans in to press a feather-light kiss to his newly-minted boyfriend’s forehead.

He sounds so very pleased when he says, ‘You didn’t fight very hard on this one.’

Zenyatta hums, content.

‘I’m glad I didn’t have to.’

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> blizzard hire me i'll write your shorts and a movie script
> 
>  
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/_antikytheras)


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